Tales of Puckworld
by Revolutionary Venom
Summary: A somewhat origins tale of each of the ducks. Takes place at different moments of time
1. Wildwing and Nosedive

I swear, the plot bunnies keep multiplying. Anyway, I've been reading either origin stories or just stories where one of the six have flashbacks about their life before the series was supposed to take place. So I'm going to try my ideas from different times of each duck and see how it works out (though I'm combining Wildwing and Nosedive's for obvious reasons).

By the way, did you know? Sometimes, no matter how often you see a person, you can miss them

Disclaimer: I don't own MD:TAS. If I did, I'd be rich

* * *

The seven year old Nosedive sighed.

He was bored out of his mind. He was at sitting on the porch at home, waiting for Wildwing to come back from playing hockey. With Canard.

Without him.

This was becoming a frequent thing as of late. Dive would come home from school, hoping that his older, almost eleven year old brother would be there when he came back. However, this was not the case.

Ever since Canard Thunderbeak had moved in a few houses down from them when Dive was four and Wing was almost eight, things hadn't been easy for Nosedive. At first, Canard had acted alright towards the younger Flashblade. But the minute the youngest turned six, the Thunderbeak had turned downright mean towards Nosedive. Hardly ever in front of Wing of course, but it hurt the younger duckling.

So for the past two years, Nosedive tried as best as he could to play with Wildwing and Canard, despite what Canard would do or say.

But since Nosedive's last Hatching Day a little over three weeks ago, Wildwing had been leaving Nosedive behind. Or at least, he wasn't home anymore when Nosedive came home from school. He didn't know if the older sibling was realizing it or not, but Nosedive was incredibly sad whenever his elder brother wasn't around to play with. It was like Canard was replacing him.

And since Nosedive had very few friends of his own, he was incredibly lonely.

The younger Flashblade brought a hand to his face, to rub his eyes only to find that his cheeks and eyes were wet with tears. _When did I start crying?_ the seven year old thought. He lowered his hand and just let the tears fall. _Why bother with Wing? He doesn't ever want to play with me anymore. All he cares about is stupid Canard-_

"Dive! Why're you crying?"

The younger Flashblade looked up to see Wildwing in front of him. As the older one sat next to Dive on the porch to unlace his skates, he asked, "What's wrong? Was someone picking on you again?"

Nosedive just shook his head.

"Then what's the matter?"

The younger one sniffled. "Nuffin," he said.

"Dive, it's not 'nothing' if you're sitting out here crying," Wildwing pointed out, placing his skates on the porch next to him. "How long have you been out here anyway?"

"Since I got home from school."

Wildwing looked at his watch, eyes widening when he realized what time it was. "You've been out here for almost four hours?!" he exclaimed. Without waiting for an answer (or picking up his skates,) the older one got up, picking up Nosedive. As he adjusted the younger duckling in his arms, Wing said, "I can't believe you been out here so long. No wonder you look like you're turning blue! Let's go inside and warm up."

Nosedive just curled up against Wildwing, shivering a little as the older Flashblade sibling opened the door and carried him inside to the living room. Wildwing carefully set Dive on the couch, who just stared off into space. "I'm gonna go get a blanket for you, okay?"

"I don't want one."

"But you're freezing," Wildwing told him, heading in the direction of a nearby closet.

"I don't want one," Nosedive repeated, wiping his eyes. He looked up at Wing. "Can you stay with me?"

Wildwing sighed. "Sure," he answered. He sat down on the couch next to Nosedive, who immediately crawled onto the other's lap, taking a hold of his brother's shirt, and curled up against him.

Since the younger one was still shivering a little, Wildwing brought his arms around his younger brother, concerned about why Dive was acting this way. "What's wrong Dive?" he asked. "And I know it's not 'nothing', so don't say that again. You can tell me what's bugging you, you know that Dive."

A few moments of silence passed before he got his shocking answer.

"I miss you."

Wildwing looked down at his brother. "I see you everyday," he said. "Why would you miss me?"

" 'Cuz you're always playin' with Canard," Nosedive said, burying his face into Wing's chest. "I never get to play with you anymore. You aren't here when I get home and sometimes you don't eat dinner with Mom, Dad, and me. I don't see you before I have to go to bed neither 'cuz you're doin' homework and Mom says I shouldn't bug you."

Wildwing thought about what Nosedive had just said and realized that the younger one was right. The past few weeks, he hadn't seen much of his younger brother, nor thought much about him; he and Canard would be playing hockey after school, in detention (but that had only happened once or twice and the Flashblade parents didn't know), eating dinner at the Thunderbeaks when it got too late after playing hockey, or doing homework when he finally _did _get home.

Wildwing felt instant guilt at this sudden realization; he had been leaving his brother behind without meaning to. It wasn't that he _wanted _to leave Nosedive behind, it was just that Nosedive got out later than Canard and Wildwing did and lately, all Canard wanted to do was go play hockey at the local rink.

And Wing _knew _how lonely Dive could get when the few friends he had weren't around (which was the norm as of late.)

The older Flashblade held his brother closer, feeling terrible for Nosedive. He remembered the times before Nosedive was hatched when he was lonely or the kids at the daycare he had stayed at would pick on him. Wing had absolutely _hated _it. It wasn't until his parents told him that he was going to get a younger brother or sister that he felt happy about loneliness, because even if he wouldn't have friends later, he'd still have a sibling to play with.

"I…I'm sorry Dive," Wildwing finally said. "I guess I forgot what it's like to be lonely. And I haven't been meaning to ignore you, it just…happened."

"…Mom says that, doesn't she?" Nosedive asked slowly, looking up at Wildwing. "Things sometimes happen?"

"Yeah. Things sometimes happen that are out of our control, or we don't realize that we were doing them in the first place." Wildwing could feel Nosedive's shivering starting to decrease, so he felt a little better about that. The almost eleven year old smiled. "I know something that'll make you feel better."

Nosedive looked confused. "What is it?" he asked.

"Want some hot chocolate with those funky marshmallows Mom puts in it?"

The younger one brightened up. "Yeah!" he exclaimed.

"Alright, but only on one condition," Wildwing said. "You gotta either let me put a blanket on you or put on a jacket since you were sitting outside so long."

" 'kay," Nosedive answered. He immediately scrambled off Wildwing's lap and headed for the coat closet to get his jacket.

Wing laughed a little and went to the kitchen. Hot chocolate always made Dive feel better, especially when their mother put in the funny-shaped marshmallows. And it was the best stuff Wildwing had ever had too, but the marshmallows were too sweet for him.

He started pulling the 'mixture' that their mother kept in a jar labeled "Secret H.C. Mix" from the pantry. Wing had never thought that he would (intentionally or unintentionally) neglect his younger brother. What was weirder was that Canard seemed to be in a better mood whenever Nosedive wasn't around.

That struck a thought into the almost eleven year old's head, causing him to stop in mid-reach of some mugs from a cupboard shelf. _Could Canard not like Dive?_ he thought. Quickly grabbing two cups from the shelf, he put them on the counter and poured a bit of the mixture into each mug, thinking.

It was true that Wing had noticed some subtle things happen in the last two years, but when Canard had first arrived when Dive was just four, the Thunderbeak had been nice to the younger Flashblade. So why would Canard object to his brother now?

"Is it ready, is it ready?!"

Wildwing turned from where he was in the kitchen to see Nosedive in an oversized jacket, (something that had been a gift from a random uncle who thought the kid would grow into it,) hopping up into a chair at the table. He then looked back at the two, steaming cups of hot chocolate.

_When did I finish making it? _he thought, picking up the mugs and bringing them to the table. "Yup," Wing answered. "Just let me get the marshmallows."

Nosedive just sat happily in his seat at the table, waiting and watching as his big brother got marshmallows just for him. When Wildwing brought them to the table, the older sibling watched as Dive placed a few in his own mug, grinning the whole time.

_Nosedive smiling over something so simple,_ Wildwing thought, taking a drink. _He looks best when he smiles, and seeing him sad was like...I dunno. It made me sad too. _He continued to watch as his younger brother drank the 'special' hot chocolate, acting like he had forgotten the entire afternoon.

_This is how it should be. _


	2. Canard

Hey guys! Well, I realized after the first chapter that Canard needed a chapter too, so I decided to move Mallory's chapter to another part so that the first three ducks we saw in the show were in the first few chapters.

P.S. Remember, the ducks only have 3 fingers and a thumb. I almost forgot about that until I saw a picture of one of the ducks talking about something

P.S.S. I found this out yesterday: There's such thing as a "Grey Goose L'Orange" drink. I'm gonna have to use that for Duke sometime xD

Disclaimer: I don't own MD:TAS. If I did, I'd be rich

* * *

Canard sat on the front porch of his new house, watching movers bringing stuff in. Since he was only eight, he wasn't allowed to help his parents or the movers. The Thunderbeak parents had suggested for him to look around the new house or the backyard; he had now done both and was bored.

He looked around him at the scenery of the neighborhood that he was now going to live in. Lots of houses in a cul-de-sac like fashion as well as no ice on the ground. Sure Puckworld was freezing outside all year round (minus a few places), but the ice still did leave the streets for at least two to three months during the year in most locations.

_So this is home for now, huh?_ Canard asked himself. He looked down the row of houses on his left when he saw a family of four coming his way.

And there were two ducklings!

Getting a little excited, Canard sat up a bit straighter. One of the kids coming his way looked like he was Canard's age, the other looking much younger.

At this point in time though, the young Thunderbeak didn't care how old they were, if only they could be friends. He hadn't had any back where he originally lived because the kids were scared of him, or more accurately, Canard's father; his dad was a four-star general in Puckworld's Special Forces, which meant he was pretty high up in the rankings. Canard's father also knew the only six star general on the P.S.F who went by the name McMallard, but Canard had never actually met him.

As the family reached the porch steps, the father waved to Canard. Canard waved back, smiling a little. "Hey there," the father greeted. "We're the Flashblades. We live about three doors down. Where are your parents?"

"Inside somewhere," the young duck answered. "I think they're opening up boxes if you want to go talk to them."

Mrs. Flashblade smiled. "We'll do that." She then looked down at her children. "Why don't you two stay out here and all get to know each other?"

" 'kay Mom," the older one said, the younger one taking hold of his big brother's shirt. The adults walked inside and went to look for the Thunderbeak parents, the three children watching them as they went in.

Canard turned back around to face the elder sibling. "So who're you?" he asked. "My name's Canard."

"I'm Wildwing," the older one said, a smile on his face. He looked down to his brother. "This is Nosedive."

The younger one quickly hid behind Wildwing, slightly scared. Canard looked at Nosedive, then back to Wildwing. "What's wrong with him?"

Wing just sighed. "Dive's kinda shy when it comes to new people," he answered.

At the mention of his name, the youngest peered around Wildwing to look at Canard, but not letting go of his brother's shirt. "It's okay Dive," Wildwing assured him. "You don't have to hide."

Nosedive just stayed where he was. "He'll come around," Wildwing finally said, looking back to Canard. "So how old are you? I just turned eight."

"I'm eight too," Canard answered. He looked back at Nosedive. "What about squirt here?"

"I'm not a squirt!" Dive exclaimed, finally showing his face, letting go of Wing's shirt. "I'm…" He counted on his fingers real fast, then held up one whole hand, fingers stretched out. "This many!"

"So you can count to four," Canard said. "But can you play hockey?"

Nosedive looked down at the ground, suddenly becoming shy again.

"He's learning," Wildwing interjected, noticing his brother's quick withdrawal. "He's been skating for about a year now, but hockey's a little tougher for him since he's small and that there's no equipment he can really use right now."

Nosedive still wasn't looking up. In fact, he just looked sadder.

"He's got a great slap shot though," Wing added. Dive looked up timidly at Canard as he listened to his older brother talk. "He can get it past me, and I'm the best goalie on my school's team."

Canard raised an eyebrow at that.

_**RVRVRVRVRVRVRV**_

Fourteen-year old Canard couldn't believe it.

Today was supposed to be a day of fun, for hockey. Just a friendly game at one of the outdoor rinks that was hardly ever used, his best friend Wildwing being the goalie.

Until he showed up with the ten-year old runt, Nosedive.

Canard knew things wouldn't end up well, for several reasons. One, he didn't really like the kid since he was _always_ following his older brother around. Two, most of the players were Canard and Wildwing's age, the youngest (besides Dive) being about thirteen.

And since Nosedive had showed up with his big brother, the others on both teams weren't going to allow him to play…that is, until a few said they wanted Dive to prove himself by scoring at least four out of six goals before they started. If he got four or more, he could play. If he didn't, he had to sit on the sidelines.

Well, he scored six goals and managed to play on the same team as Canard and Wildwing. As Dive was going for the final point for the game, several other players practically tackled the kid and one of the bigger players landed on Nosedive's left arm and broke it.

Canard remembered earlier as Wildwing had rushed over after hearing his younger brother cry out in pain and looking at the kid's arm. When he saw that, the older Flashblade had gotten _mad_. And not just the everyday kind, the kind that a duck rarely ever saw in their lifetime. Wildwing's eyes had been full of fire; he actually had punched out the guy who had fallen on Nosedive's arm and given him a black eye. Even before the other duck hit the ground, Wildwing had pulled a bandanna from his pocket and made a make-shift sling for Nosedive. Then, he immediately left with Nosedive in tow, Canard following after them more out of annoyance and not knowing what Wildwing might do.

So here they were now, in the ER at the hospital that Mrs. Flashblade worked at, waiting for her to come back, Nosedive asleep on the bed while Wing and Canard sat in two chairs next to the bed.

The young Thunderbeak looked over at his best friend, who sat next to him. Wildwing was staring at the floor, a look of guilt on his face. Canard inwardly sighed. _He doesn't have to be _this _worried over a broken arm,_ the fourteen-year old thought. _It's not like it won't heal._

But since he couldn't take it anymore, Canard asked, "What's wrong Wing?"

"This is all my fault," Wildwing answered, sounding sadder than Canard had ever heard.

"Why do you think that?"

"Because if I hadn't convinced the others to let him play, he wouldn't have gotten hurt."

"Maybe if that brat didn't follow you everywhere, stuff like this wouldn't happen to him."

Wildwing _glared _at him, but after seeing his friend at the rink, Canard wasn't afraid.

Suddenly, they both heard a whimper from Nosedive. Immediately, Wildwing jumped up from his seat and leaned over the side of the bed, Canard remaining in his seat. "Dive? You awake?" Wing asked softly.

Nosedive just clutched at his arm and settled back into a peaceful slumber. Wildwing sighed, relaxing a little as he sat down. He kept his eyes on the younger Flashblade, his gaze never wavering, just watching protectingly.

_I'm never gonna get Wing to leave Dive alone am I?_

Little did Canard know, that almost six years later he was going to have to sacrifice his own life for not just Nosedive, but an entire team…


	3. Mallory: Part 1

HAI GAIZ. Okay, here's Mallory's story (FINALLY). It took me awhile to come up with something that would sound like her, so I hope you guys like it.

P.S. This is a two parter. Since Wildwing, Nosedive, and Canard pretty much have something set up for them (unlike most of the others), I figured it'd be okay for them to have just one chapter

P.S.S. I did research on the Army to do equivalent stuff for Puckworld's Special Forces. Problem is, I'm more oriented with the Marines since I know only (current) Marines and an Army vet of WWII. So if I messed something up, please tell me and I'll fix it

Disclaimer: I don't own MD:TAS. If I did, I'd be rich

* * *

"When's Dad coming home?"

"I told you Mallory, he'll be home sometime today. I just don't know when exactly."

The ten-year old red-head sighed. She was sitting at the kitchen table as her mother was finishing the decorating of a special 'Welcome Home' cake for her father.

General McMallard had been away on a base a few towns over for a few months; it was required that he spend at least three months on base, helping train recruits and whatever else he did twice a year. Mallory hated it when he was gone; as much as she loved her mother, she missed her father a lot because he treated her like a daughter _and _a soldier, something her mom didn't really approve of since Mallory wanted to be in the Special Forces one day and her mother didn't want her only daughter to fight.

However, she was well on the path to the military, if not PuckWorld's Special Forces. The McMallard drake had already taught his daughter how to handle an arrangement of guns, including a rifle that could take out someone from over 500 feet away. Occasionally, when he took her to the local base, she would do the obstacle course that was there. Funny thing was that she held the record for clearing it the fastest; she had been seven when that happened, and so far, no recruits since that time had cleared her record.

So a then-seven year old had beaten hundreds of people that were at least twice her age. To this day, it remained a running joke in the family about-

A door creaked open from somewhere in the house. "Anyone home?" a deep voice called out.

"DADDY!" Mallory exclaimed, jumping from her seat. She ran to the front door and practically glomped her father.

General McMallard hugged his daughter tightly, smiling. "Hey there soldier," he said. Placing his daughter on the floor, he said, "Now close your eyes cadet and get ready for a surprise."

"What is it, what is it?" Mallory asked, hopping up and down slightly, an excited look in her eyes.

Her father laughed mildly before asking, "A recruit does what they're told, don't they?"

Mallory stopped her hopping-in-place and nodded, a smile still adorning her young face. "Yes sir," she said, closing her eyes as commanded.

She heard something…footsteps?…then the sound of the door closing.

After a minute or two, she heard, "Okay soldier, you can open your eyes now."

Mallory's eyes immediately flew open, then widened when she saw who was in her father's place. "Grandpa! Wesley!"

At the mention of them, Mallory's grandfather and twenty-five year old brother got their shares of hugs from the small girl. "How's my soldier-in-training?" Her grandfather asked. Mallory just nodded into his shoulder, glad to see the retired six-star general.

When she hugged her brother however, she was confused. "Why are you here Wesley?" Mallory asked. "I thought you still had to train recruits for another six months."

Her brother just smiled at her. "Even I need some time off," he answered. "The officers said I could take my leave now instead of waiting."

"Why?"

"Because I miss my little sister so much." With that, he got up to greet his mother, who was standing in the kitchen doorway, talking to her husband.

Wesley and Grandpa McMallard went over to the surprised Mrs. McMallard to talk as well, but as they did, Mallory couldn't help but notice something wrong with this picture.

Why had her brother looked sad when he had said that last sentence?

_**RVRVRVRVRVRVRV**_

Mallory couldn't sleep.

It was pretty late and she had gone to bed hours ago, but for some reason or another, she couldn't sleep.

She was so surprised to see her brother back home when they had met at the door. Her thoughts kept going back to why he was there. Wesley was supposed to be training the new cadets that had come in at the beginning of the year, and that wasn't even two months ago.

And why had he looked so sad when he said that he had missed her?

She wasn't sure, but if it was something important, she wanted to know about it.

Quietly, she climbed out of her bed, going out the door, and into the hallway. Honestly, she didn't know where to go exactly to learn the truth, but the best thing she figured to do was to ask Wesley now that it was so late.

So she headed in the direction of his room.

On her way, however, she was distracted by voices coming from the upstairs study. She quietly and quickly put herself against the wall next to the door.

"-the recruits had to get my superior officers Dad. What was I supposed to do, brush it off when they saw me?"

"…I know. You're right. A captain has to obey their higher-ups."

_What did they see? _Mallory thought, her curiosity peaking.

"I mean, one minute I was doing the morning inspection, then coughing up blood! I remember a recruit asked me if I was alright when I started, but the next thing I know, Major Peaks was next to me when I was on the floor."

Mallory froze as soon as she heard the words 'coughing up blood'. _Wesley? What's wrong with you?_

She then heard her grandfather speak. "Captain, it looks like you're running out of time. Two years ago, the medical team said that it would only get worse, and now that it has, what will you do?"

"…I don't know sir. The military has been my entire life, shaped who I am. I don't know what to do now."

Their father sighed, then asked softly, "How much time did they give you before you left base with me?"

"…about six months."

Mallory's eyes widened and she almost gasped, if she had not managed to take a hold of her own beak to keep her from doing so. Tears started to prick the corners of her eyes as she heard her father speak again.

"I think you need to spend your last days here. I'll take my leave now, that way we can all be together."

"Dad, you don't have-"

"If I don't, I'll regret it for the rest of my life."

Mallory didn't stay to listen to anymore of the conversation. Instead, she went back to her room, climbed back into bed and fell asleep, crying into her pillow.

* * *

Okay, if you didn't know, from my first story "Every 1 in 15", I had made Mallory say "I wouldn't know since I don't have any siblings myself." But then I realized over the last few months how many stories fanfic writers have where she's the youngest in the family and has like, three or four older brothers. So I decided to take a spin on it.


	4. Mallory: Part 2

HALLO. Here's the 2nd part to Mallory's story. And since I don't want to give anything away, all notes will be at the bottom

Disclaimer: I don't own MD:TAS. If I did, I'd be rich.

* * *

"Rise and shine Squirt."

Mallory opened her eyes, not feeling well rested. And under her eyes felt funny. Why did they-?

Then she remembered the conversation she had heard the previous night between her father, grandfather, and brother. She almost started to cry again if her brother hadn't started to talk again.

"What's wrong Mal?" Wesley asked, noticing the sad look on her face. He picked her up, sat on the bed, then set her on his lap. "You look like you didn't get much sleep."

Tears just filled her eyes and she buried her face into his shoulder. "Did you have a bad dream?" he asked, brushing some of her red hair away from her face.

"Why didn't you tell me you were sick?"

Wesley's brown eyes widened, his hand stopping in mid-motion. "What're you-"

"I heard you, dad, and grandpa talkin' last night," Mallory answered. She looked up at him, eyes full of tears. "Why didn't you tell me?"

Her brother was silent for a few moments. "Wes?"

"…do you want to know the honest-to-DuCaine truth?"

Mallory nodded.

"Three years ago, while out on a mission, I came into contact with some ducks that had active TB-"

"Tuberculosis?" Mallory asked, eyes wide.

"Yeah. I came into contact with them during a mission with my team at the time." He ran one hand over his brown, military style cut hair, eyes growing sad. "After that mission, my team and I were all checked for the disease and the medical team didn't find anything. But after a few months, a few of the cadets started to develop symptoms. Even though we'd all been taking the medicine the doctors gave us, a few ducks still got the disease."

He paused, wiping away Mallory's tears that were now freely falling. "So that's what you were taking medicine for when you were on leave that time?" she asked.

Her brother nodded. "I took the medicine the full nine months that was recommended, and the docs couldn't find anything," Wesley continued. "I thought I was home free.

"Unfortunately that wasn't the case. Two years ago, symptoms started that I didn't think much of. Random chest pain, sometimes I had shortness of breath, or occasionally I got really tired for no reason. I didn't even think to go to the doctors. I just thought I was overworked until I passed out one day while practicing on one of the obstacle courses. I fell off a ten-foot wall, flat on my back."

"Is that why you came home for awhile back then?" Mallory asked. "Mom wouldn't let me see you for a week and she made you stay in bed."

"I'm surprised you remember all this."

"It's kinda hard to forget when you aren't home a lot," she pointed out. A sad look just passed over her elder brother's face after she said that. "Wait, if TB's something you can pass, how come no one else is sick?"

"Because the docs made me stay in the Sick Bay for awhile before I came home with Dad, mask on and everything, while I took medicine," he said. "I still have to take medicine, but there's much less of a chance that anyone will get it." He hugged Mallory. "But I think Mom and Dad will still take you to the doctor to get tested."

"…but why didn't you tell me?"

Wes just held onto her tighter. "You were only seven when it first happened Squirt," he said. "And I wasn't officially diagnosed until you were eight. I-I didn't want to worry you Mallory."

They sat in silence for awhile. Then Mallory finally asked, "Does Mom know?"

"Yeah, she's known for a little while now."

Suddenly, a knock on the door alerted the two that someone else was there. "Mallory, are you awake?" their mother's voice asked.

The duckling sniffled a little. "I'm awake Mom," she answered.

"Then come downstairs, breakfast is ready."

They heard their mother's footsteps fade and disappear from the other side of the door.

Wesley sighed. "C'mon Mal," he said, rising from his seat on her bed with the red-head in his arms. "Let's go eat breakfast."

"I'm not hungry."

Her brother sighed. "I know it's a lot to deal with, but we still gotta eat. Besides, breakfast is the most important meal of the day, right?"

With that, he carried his younger sister downstairs for breakfast…

_**RVRVRVRVRVRVRV**_

Months passed, as did the moments that were spent doing final things. The McMallard family had traveled to other parts of Puckworld, played numerous rounds of hockey, had snow fights, basically anything that Wesley could think of that he wanted to do over the six-month period that he was given.

Unfortunately, the time would be drawing to a close.

For the last few weeks, Wesley had been in the V.A. hospital, though he technically wasn't a veteran. However, thanks to General McMallard Sr., he was able to be admitted there and be taken care of by the Puckworld Specialist Medical Corps.

Currently, Wesley and Mallory were playing Poker, a game that he had taught her when she was five and they played every time he was home. He soon discovered that he had made a mistake in teaching her card games, because after a few rounds (and a few other games) Wesley discovered that his sister could probably beat all the money out of any cadet in the military.

About the fifth round of Poker started when Mrs. McMallard came in. "Mallory, it's time to go," she told her daughter.

Both of the younger McMallards looked at their mother. "But I don't wanna go," Mallory said. "Besides, I'm kicking Wes' butt at Poker."

Their father and grandfather then stepped into the hospital room. "Sorry Princess, but it's getting late," her father reminded her. "And visiting hours are just about up."

The young red-head looked at her brother, then back to the adults. "Do I have to?" she asked meekly.

Reluctantly, all three nodded.

"But don't worry cadet," her grandfather added. "Your father and I will be here. If anything happens, we'll call."

"…okay," Mallory finally agreed. She really didn't want to leave; there was some nagging feeling in her gut telling her not to go, but she climbed onto the bed her brother was occupying and hugged him anyway. "Night Wesley."

"Good night Squirt."

She was about to get off the bed when her father said, "Why don't you two take a few minutes and talk first? The three of us need to discuss some things with the doctors."

With that, the three left.

Mallory just blinked as she watched them leave. "That was weird," she said.

"Yeah, no kidding," Wesley agreed, ruffling his sister's hair. "Hey Mallory?"

She looked at him. "What's up?"

"Will you forget me when you're older?"

"No way!" she exclaimed. "Why would I?"

Wesley smiled. "Just wondering," he answered. "I haven't been around all the time, since I entered the military when you were three. So I just wanted to know."

She hugged him again. " 'Course not," she said. "Just 'cuz I'm a kid doesn't mean I'll forget you when I grow up."

"Well, in case you do, I want you to remember something."

"What is it?"

"Each forward step we take we leave some phantom of ourselves behind."

Mallory looked at him with a blank face. "What does that mean?" she asked.

He merely smiled. "I didn't expect you to understand it now, but maybe someday, when you're on a team with other soldiers, you'll know then."

"…do you really think I'll make a good soldier?"

"I think you'll make it all the way to Puckworld's Special Forces."

_**RVRVRVRVRVRVRV**_

She sat on her bed, just staring at the wall.

Wesley had died at 5 A.M., just hours after they had talked.

His funeral had been a few hours ago. She remembered it, but she felt…numb. There wasn't any clear way to describe it; she had seen the honor guards (who a few had been her brother's friends) carry the casket, which had been covered by Puckworld's national flag. She had heard the bugler play "Taps" and the gunshots from a rifle party. The last thing from the funeral she could clearly remember was the folding of the flag over her brother's casket, then it being presented to her father, who was a four-star general.

That had only taken place about two hours ago. She couldn't believe that Wesley was now gone.

A knock on her door brought her back to awareness. "What?"

"Can I come in Princess?"

Mallory sighed. "Yeah."

Her father opened the door and entered the room. "I know this is a lot to take in," he said, closing the door behind him, then coming over to her bed to sit next to her. "But Wesley was trying to protect you. He didn't want you to know he was sick."

"…I know."

Her father sighed. Then he reached into his coat pocket, pulling out a small box. "I know this is a strange time to give you a gift, but this was requested to be given to you after his funeral," General McMallard said.

Mallory eyed the small package and took it from her father. She opened the lid and her eyes went wide.

Inside was her brother's dog tags, along with another pair. Mallory picked up the second pair and read what was engraved;

**McMallard,**

**Mallory**

**050988**

**B-**

_**"From Wesley to Mallory; good luck with the P.S.F."**_

_**RVRVRVRVRVRVRV**_

The female opened her eyes and stared up at the ceiling.

She hadn't thought about Wesley in a long time. According to the Puckworld calendar that Tanya had set up in Drake One, it was close to the fifteen year anniversary of when he had died.

She reached under the collar of her purple T-shirt and pulled out a chain. On it held her brother's tags. Mallory could hear his voice saying, _"Each forward step we take we leave some phantom of ourselves behind."_

Perhaps he had been right. Since joining the Resistance and becoming a Mighty Duck, she had come to understand what he had meant. With each step that a duck (or person really) took in their lives, they had to learn to leave something behind, whether it was a fear, an actual person, or a memory.

In their case, the team had had to leave Canard behind (in a matter of speaking, since he sacrificed himself.) It was after that and coming to Earth that she really understood his phrase to her.

She fingered the other set of dog tags that were on the chain. 'Good luck with the P.S.F.' was what he had told her.

If only Wesley could see her now.

* * *

AN #1 - I did do Army/military research for this chapter since (as previously stated) I don't know much about the Army but the Marines. The funeral comes from what I've seen in media and my grandpa's funeral (he was a WWII vet)

AN #2 - I also had to do a lot of research on TB - apparently there are three types (maybe four, I'm not sure anymore). But the two I was using for this specific story were Latent TB (which can develop into Active) and Active TB. About half the stuff in this story is true, while a smaller part is stuff that I said so they could bend to my will (what fanfic writer DOESN'T do this?)

AN #3 - You can get special military dog tags engraved (if you didn't know this already,) but I wasn't entirely sure what went on them. The only things I know that go on them specifically is the name of the person and blood type

One last thing; Mallory was ten when this started, and I made her about twenty five or so during the current series. So...yeah. She's about 25 on Earth


	5. Duke: Part 1

HAI. Okay, well, this part of the story was sort of a crossroads and I had to pick a path. So I did. It starts out differently than the other chapters (since Duke is our most complicated duck/has the most complicated past) and will be another two-parter. I'm trying to keep it away from being a three-chapter one, but like I said, Duke's complicated so I'm gonna do my best (that and the fact that I want to do an actual origins story just on him)

So...yeah. Enjoy!

P.S. I got the idea for the beginning mainly from "Howl's Moving Castle", though that's not what the Ducks are watching. More notes at the bottom

Disclaimer: I don't own MD:TAS. If I did, I'd be rich.

* * *

Duke sat back in one of the two recliners in the Rec Room, doing a crossword puzzle as the others were watching some movie that he didn't really care for. While he didn't want to watch the movie, he hadn't wanted to leave the company of his friends.

So instead, he pulled out the giant crossword puzzle book that Tanya had bought for him as a present long ago, got some coffee, and settled down to work while the others watched…whatever it was.

"Oh man! How many aliases does this guy need?" Duke heard Nosedive exclaim. "How can someone keep up with that many names?"

"He just wants his freedom Dive," Wildwing answered. "Sometimes people need a lot of different names. Besides, I bet it's like having a nickname or being an actor."

That piqued Duke's interest. He looked up from his crossword to address the team's leader. "Why an act'ah?"

Wing looked at him. It was easier to see the expression on his face right now since the younger drake was in normal clothes and wasn't wearing the mask. "Well, don't actors have their own lives, plus whatever role they're playing for a movie or TV show?" he asked. "It'd be like not knowing who they really were."

Duke shrugged. "Guess so," he answered. "But aliases aren't just for freedom."

The movie suddenly stopped. Duke realized that Tanya must've stopped it because it went dead silent in the room.

"What are you getting at L'Orange?" Mallory asked from her seat on one of the couches.

"Oh I know!" Nosedive said excitedly, waving a hand in the air. "Your name's not real is it? It's a fake name!"

"No it's real," Duke said. "I've had it ev'ah since I can rememb'ah…at least, since I rememb'ah joining the Brotherhood."

The others just looked at him. "What do you mean?" asked Tanya.

_**RVRVRVRVRVRVRV**_

The small, twelve year old grey duck looked at the kitchen table, hoping he wasn't going to find something that he thought was especially scary.

But they were there.

Two or three times a week, the small duckling would find needles on the kitchen table. They belonged to his mother, and whatever was in them, usually scared the hell out of him whenever she took what was in them.

But it had been that way for about six years now, ever since his dad had left. He had learned long ago not to mess with the needles; when they had first appeared, the small child hadn't even touched the needles when his mother saw and freaked out about touching "her stash".

It was later that he found out what she meant by "stash"…that and he saw what the female duck was like after using the stuff. The lady was _scary_.

Seeing the stuff on the table meant another night of surviving by being a pickpocket or scamming food from the neighbors (if they had any, that was). So the young drake set out to do what had become a somewhat routine thing.

Little did he know, as he was walking away from his front door to go do his own mission, someone else was intently watching the twelve-year old…

_**RVRVRVRVRVRVRV**_

The kid sat on a bench in the park, eating a burger he had managed to buy with the small amount of money he had pick pocketed. It wasn't much, but it would fill his stomach for the evening, then he could use some more of the money he had to buy himself breakfast.

This gray drake had learned long ago how to stretch money.

Suddenly, someone sat next to him. The younger one didn't really give the other much notice, continuing to eat his sandwich.

"It's not all that fun, is it? Having to survive by yourself?"

The younger drake stopped in mid-bite.

"I've been watching for awhile kid," the adult said. "Your mother's been on drugs for some time, hasn't she?"

Stunned, the younger one just looked up at the other and nodded. "How'd ya know that?" he asked.

Mystery Man (or what the kid was going to call him for now,) just smiled. "I've had something along the lines of what's going on happen to me too," he answered. Then he turned serious. "I've seen you stealing from those ducks."

"I can explain-"

The older one raised a hand to silence the child. "S'alright kid, no need to explain," he said. Lowering his hand, he asked. "You're good at what'cha do. There's a group I know of that you might want to join."

The kid looked at him suspiciously.

"Don't worry, it's not a gang or something bad like that," Mystery Man said, waving a hand off as if it were nothing. "But first, what's your name?"

The younger one muttered something. Mystery Man smiled. "It's a nice name kid, but how about something a little more regal?"

"Like what?"

The older one thought for a minute. "Well, you're not quite a prince, though I'm sure you could reach that level. How about Duke?"

Smiling, the twelve-year old finally looked the older one in the eye. "Sure," he said. "But I don't know your name."

"How stupid of me," the older one said, laughing a bit. "I'm Baron."

_**RVRVRVRVRVRVRV**_

He woke up slowly, feeling much more refreshed than he had in a very long time. _Wonder why Ma didn't come at me screamin'-_

Then he realized he wasn't at the place he called home. He sat up quickly, to find himself on an actual bed in a well-sized room. At home, all he had to sleep on was an old, worn out mattress in a tiny area. Here, it was like the duckling had his own bedroom.

So he got off the bed and looked around. Not much in the room, but it was still very nice.

As he looked around, he noticed that there was a desk that held the few possessions he held dear to him on it._ How'd those get here?_

On the wall next to the desk was a decent sized mirror. He couldn't see himself in it (malnutrition over the years will stunt a duck's growth y'know), so he pulled out the desk chair and dragged it to the mirror to look in it.

That's when it all came back to him. He had met an older duck by the name of Baron in the park after he had bought his dinner and had been invited to come join a group that had yet to be explained.

One thing the young gray drake did know was that he had a new name.

Duke L'Orange.

* * *

Okay, the deal with "Howl's Moving Castle" that I didn't mention earlier was that in one part, Howl explains why he has as many different names as he does. "As many as I need to keep my freedom," is what I think he says. I dunno why, but I got the idea for this from that.


	6. Duke: Part 2

HAI. Here's Duke's 2nd part. I hope I can live up to the mystery that is Duke as I write any stories of him; this chapter certainly tested me a bit. At least it's helping me for a future one.

P.S. I never thought about it before, but something started bugging me, so I took a couple of glances at "To Catch a Duck." Notes for this at the bottom =3

Disclaimer: I don't own MD:TAS. If I did, I'd be rich

* * *

"So…you don't even know your real name?" Mallory asked curiously.

Duke shrugged. "What's it matt'ah?" he asked. "Everyone's been callin' me that since I was twelve. Even before that, my Ma would just scream obscenities at me and never call me by…well, whatev'ah my name was before the Brotherhood. And I can't rememb'ah what my life was like before my dad left."

"Sometimes the past is best left in the past," Grin piped up from his seat next to their youngest member.

"Amen to that, O High-and-Mighty-Mast'ah," Duke just said, smiling.

"Wait, is it better to leave the past where it is or make peace with it?" Nosedive asked Grin, as he looked up at the much larger drake.

The other shrugged. "Sometimes both," he answered.

A few moments of silence passed.

Then, the proverbial light bulb cast its light over Tanya. "I think I get it," she finally said. "Some parts like the -uh - past Duke and Falcone had in the Brotherhood should be dealt with, right? While others don't need to be brought up again because - y'know - it's already been dealt with or doesn't need to be repeated."

Grin nodded.

Duke was about to take another drink of coffee when he realized that he was out. "I'm gonna go get some more," he said, waving his mug as he got up. The others didn't need to know what that meant; every time Duke wanted more coffee, he'd wave his mug a bit before pouring more for himself (and anyone else who might've wanted it).

"I think I'll go with you," Wildwing suddenly said, rising as well. "I should've made more popcorn before sitting down."

"Bring soda!" Nosedive called to his brother as the team leader and ex-thief left the room. Wing just gave the mildest of nods, a smile on his face before the doors closed.

_**RVRVRVRVRVRVRV**_

"Something you wanted to talk to me about Wing?" Duke asked as they arrived to the kitchen, well beyond the hearing range of the other ducks.

Wildwing started looking through the cabinets for bags of popcorn. "Actually yeah," he answered. "Just if you don't mind me asking."

Duke looked at the coffee pot on the counter, noticing it was empty. He sighed, knowing he'd have to wait for a whole new pot to brew and whatnot. "Depends on what'cha askin'," the ex-bandit replied, going through the process to make a new round of his favorite caffeinated drink.

"What was Baron like?"

Duke was silent for a few minutes, just working with the coffee maker. Finally, when he was done and had taken a seat at the table to wait, he answered.

"A noble drake I'd say," Duke started, a thoughtful yet distant look on his face. "He was my mentor. Taught me how to fight and uphold hon'ah in our guild, somethin' that was rare among a lot of 'em."

"So it's true about there being 'honor among thieves'?" Wildwing asked, taking a seat at the table with Duke as he waited for the popcorn.

"Do you really wanna he'ah about all this?" Duke asked.

"Well, including me, there are five ducks watching a movie in the Rec Room, one of them being a near-bottomless pit when it comes to eating. I've gotta make _a lot _of popcorn."

Duke chuckled when Wing noted his own brother's appetite. The kid could down triple spicy tacos faster than one could say "Drake DuCaine".

"Alright," the elder one finally said. He thought for a moment, then finally remembered something that he thought Wildwing could hear.

_**RVRVRVRVRVRVRV**_

"-just needs to stay down until his leg is able to hold his own weight enough for him to walk."

"But he will be able to, right?"

He heard the voices talking, but he couldn't really rouse himself into full awareness just yet.

"He'll be up to it again in no time Baron. Your kid's tough. Now the only question is-"

"-Whether or not the elders will do anything to reprimand him."

_Would they really do that to me-_

"-Baron…?"

"Kid? You awake in there?"

Duke managed to open his eyes a little. It was oddly bright, wherever he was.

"Well, he's finally awake."

The seventeen-year old Duke just opened his eyes a little more and saw not only the black-feathered Baron, who was sitting in a chair at his left side, but one of the Brotherhood's Infirmary doctors standing on the right side. "What's goin' on?" he asked. The younger guild member tried to sit up, but Baron just eased him back down as he tried. "Whoa there kid, you got hurt pretty bad," his mentor said. "You've got a few bruised ribs and might not want to sit up for awhile."

So Duke laid back down on the Infirmary bed as the head doctor began.

"Your partner for the mission gave us a full account of what happened," the physician answered. "Seems Falcone was able to rescue you."

Completely confused by this (since that wasn't what had happened), Duke only managed to utter a "what?" in response.

Both Baron and Duke stared at the doc as he answered, who didn't notice the puzzled look on Duke's face or the distrust in Baron's eyes.

"Well, when you and Falcone were sent on that mission to the Museum of National DuCaine History to steal the artifact almost four nights ago, Falcone told us that he managed to get the item from the case. However, there were guards on duty that night and one of them got you. Falcone saved you and made it back here. His details were a little sketchy though when he tried to explain about your leg or the chip in your bill."

Baron noticed the surprised look in Duke's eyes after the story was told. "That's enough doc," the older member said. "I think I need to have a chat with my apprentice here."

"…I think that's a good idea," the physician agreed. "I have to go check on other patients anyway. But make sure he gets rest."

With that he left Baron and Duke in the small room that helped make up the Infirmary.

Duke turned his head to look at his mentor. "Baron, Falcone didn't do squat to help," he started, trying to get his side out. "He's-"

"A traitorous, over-stuffed parakeet," Baron finished, running one hand through his short, graying hair.

Duke wasn't expecting this. "Huh?"

"Something happened while you were on that mission kid, and I know you didn't get a gash on your leg that's so deep I can see bone from someone who'd be so low-level," Baron answered. "Only a sharp blade can do that, and I know that _no _guard on Puckworld has something like that, even when they're heavily armed. I dunno why the doc or anyone in this whole damn guild believes Falcone. So what really happened?"

"He…he surprised me," Duke said. "We'd just gotten that stupid thing outta its case when he pulled out one of the blades like what the eld'ahs have."

His mentor's eyes widened. "You're kidding me."

"Baron, he just sta'hted to fight me for no reason. I asked him why when we just got the dumb thing out without any problems. Somethin' about how I was stoppin' him from 'bein' the best' or whateva."

Duke paused, not sure how to continue.

"I am proud of you for one thing kid," Baron finally said, after a few moments of silence. "You wore gloves like I taught ya and didn't leave fingerprints." Then his face slumped into a further frown than it already was. "The problem with that though is that it can confirm _and _deny the load of feathers story that Falcone's spouting off."

"Really?"

"Puck yes!" Baron exclaimed. "You've seen the other masters, elders, _and _their apprentices. How many of them have you seen wearing gloves when they go out on a heist?"

The teenager thought about it for a moment. "Actually, not many," he finally answered.

"Exactly Duke," Baron said. "Many of the elders and masters in the Brotherhood don't teach their apprentices or the new recruits that wearing gloves is crucial; even if you got the damn artifact, you might still leave fingerprints everywhere else."

"Or feath'ahs," Duke pointed out.

"This is true, but that's why a duck - or in Falcone's case, falcon - shouldn't go on a heist when they're molting," Baron pointed out.

Duke sighed. "So what now?" he asked his appointed master.

"Let me deal with the council and the leader," Baron said, rising from his seat. "I wanted to get the story from you as soon as you woke up, but you've been out for three days, so I don't know if your story will work against the one Falcone's spouting."

He was about to leave if Duke hadn't of asked one question.

"How bad is my bill?"

Baron sighed. "It's not that bad, but…" He went over to a counter in the room, picked up a mirror the doctor kept in there, and brought it back to his apprentice. "You might want to see for yourself."

Duke just looked into the mirror and sighed.

_**RVRVRVRVRVRVRV**_

"…From that day on, when I looked in a mirr'ah, I saw Falcone, laughing at me because he managed to leave a scar."

Wildwing was reeling in a bunch of emotions: surprise (because he hadn't known the facts about Duke's scar on his bill or the fact that he had a teacher), regret (he had wanted Falcone too, though at a different time when the scoundrel was stealing on Earth), and a whole bunch of other things he couldn't name.

One though that did come to mind was sadness; mainly because (judging from the look on Duke's face) it seemed to Wildwing that Duke felt he had let his mentor down…that and the fact that he had a permanent scar. Which Wildwing could relate to, seeing that when the ducks had first arrived on Earth, he had felt that he had let Canard down.

"I…I'm sorry Duke, I didn't-"

"-know," the other finished. "S'alright Wing. You wanted a story, so I gave you one." He paused. "Y'know, Baron really did his best to help me aft'ah that happened, but the council of elders and lead'ah at the time believed Falcone's story over mine. All my mentor could do was help me get back on my feet…literally."

Things were silent for a few minutes. Then, Wildwing gathered up the courage to ask something he though important.

"What happened to him when the Invasion started?"

Duke sighed. "I dunno," he answered. "We both had switched sides to help Puckworld. I sta'hted first, then Baron followed, sayin' somethin' like 'can't let ya go at it alone'. So we both sta'hted stealin', but for a great'ah good. Then…"

Wing waited, ignoring the beeping of the microwave in the background, indicating that the fifth bag of popcorn he had made was done.

"…then we got separated. Just before I joined Canard and the Resistance. I dunno what happened to him."

* * *

Okay, concerning my note at the top. In "To Catch a Duck" when Duke comes out in what he called "hunting tools", he was wearing gloves. Oddly enough though, Falcone doesn't wear any as we watch him attempt to steal the fake diamond, key to the clocktower, or the sapphire at the end. Now, whether that's because of his cockiness or whatever, I'll leave for the fans and/or Disney to figure out. My outlook is that Duke wears gloves when he steals as to not leave any fingerprints (which is probably a good idea if you think about it).


	7. Tanya

HAI.

Alright, I'll admit it; this chapter about Tanya was a combination of watching Static Shock ("Gear" mainly), MD:TAS ("To Catch a Duck" and "The Most Dangerous Duck Hunt"), a few different chapters of the "Negima!" mangas (the regular one and Neo) that feature Hakase, and my own ideas. So be prepared for some...odd-ness I guess

Disclaimer: I don't own MD:TAS. If I did, I'd be rich.

* * *

The fifteen year old sighed happily, sitting back in the chair at her workbench in the garage, trying to remember to keep her oiled up fingers out of her short, blonde hair as she removed the goggles covering her eyes.

An object lay before her, in its almost complete form. The pop-out automatic saw had just been installed; only a few more things needed to be added and it would be done.

Tanya had started this project months ago; it had originally started out as a layout project for a dream item in Mechanics/Shop class. But after drawing out the original outline and getting the grade back, she couldn't help but draw out further and build the said object.

She _was _a super-genius after all. Or, so others kept telling her.

"Hey Tanya!"

The fifteen year old looked over her shoulder to see one of her closest friends through the years, Richie. He, like her, was a genius when it came to science. The only thing he really wasn't good at was hand-eye coordination…that and listening to others when he got focused on an idea. Richie was a white-plumed, white blonde, glasses wearing geek who was as science-y as she was.

And she loved that about him…among other things.

"Hi Richie," she greeted as he approached her workbench. "It's nothing really, just the thing I've been working on for - uhm - the last few months."

"You mean that wrist tool?" he asked, pulling up a chair and sitting next to her. "You've been working on that for a long time. What can it do?"

She hit a button and all the things she had installed thus far came out.

"Well, let's see, we've got the basic things on here," she started. "First, the pop-out automatic saw, a small laser that both shoot and cut through stuff, a mini screwdriver, a tube thingy that can take samples of stuff from a very short distance-"

"Does it have a clock though?" Richie jokingly asked.

"What would the purpose of that be?"

The teenage drake just sighed. Tanya sometimes didn't catch onto his jokes, however lame they were.

"Anyway, it'll be finished as soon as I can figure a couple of other things out."

"Like what?"

Tanya sat back and looked at her creation. "Well, I want to put in a thermometer that can take the temperature of something or someone just by touching them instead of…well, y'know, sticking it in something."

Her friend just looked at the thing for a minute, then back at her. "Why that?"

"Well think about it," she said. "If you were wearing this and wanted to know how hot something was, you could use this instead of sticking a finger or whatever in said item. And sometimes ducks lie about being sick, so you could use this as well."

Richie just shrugged. "Whatever you think you could use it for," he simply said. "I'm not the super genius you are when it comes to inventing."

"But you made those rocket powered skates a few months ago," she pointed out.

"Yeah, but the military thought it would be more useful to them instead of letting me keep the idea."

"Oh yeah, I forgot."

"And besides that, I was just…improving skating, not making something from scratch."

Tanya just brushed some hair away from her field of vision. "I guess I forgot about that too," she answered lightheartedly. "But still, not many ducks can do something like that. So you're still a genius."

Then she stuck her tongue out at him to prove her point.

"Y'know, you've done that so many times over the years I might one day grab it and yank it out," he told her, a smile on his face.

Tanya just rolled her eyes. "You wish." She paused. "What are you doing here anyway? I thought you had to give a lecture to Drake University lab students about nuclear fusion."

Richie shrugged. "Got cancelled," he answered. "I was about to leave my house when I got a call from the Director of Science at the university. So I came over here instead. Why, is that a bad thing?"

"Nah, I probably needed a break anyway," Tanya said, getting up. She went over to the sink and began to wash her hands. "Actually, I'm kinda hungry-"

A growling stomach was heard. She looked back at her friend, to see him blushing through his white feathers. "Let's go get something to eat," she said smiling.

"You read my mind," he said, the grin on his face getting bigger.

Tanya wiped her hands on an old towel. "Alright, but I gotta take a quick shower and change outta these," she said, indicating her old work clothes.

"Fine with me, I can wait."

_**RVRVRVRVRVRVRV**_

"I'm telling ya Tanya, if the military were to combine blaster pucks that they normally use as ammo with other elements-"

"Like what?"

"Well, what about making something like gas pucks?" Richie asked, taking a big bite of his burger. He tried to talk around the food, but Tanya just looked disgusted (and couldn't understand him).

"Chew your food," Tanya said, taking a drink of soda. "You know I can't understand you when you do that."

Richie quickly chewed and swallowed. "I was saying that if someone were to make something like a gas puck, then it could replace gas bombs," he said. "Instead of throwing it and possibly missing by a long shot, it could be shot and still be in the same area. And it can ricochet better than a gas bomb could."

Tanya would have answered if she had not heard what next reached her hearing range.

"Well, well, well, if it ain't Tanya and Richie. Don't you two have some gear you should be working on right now?"

Tanya sighed and looked up, Richie glaring at the two punks next to their table. "What are you guys doing here?" Richie asked. "What happened to that rat pit you call a hangout?"

"Decided that we needed a change of pace," one of them said, full of cockiness. "So Nick and I here came to this place, only to see that you two are here. What a coincidence!"

"Then why come bother us?" asked Tanya, already irritated. "I'm sure there are some three year olds somewhere that would love to make you feel smart."

The other duck with Nick grabbed Tanya by the arm and yanked her to her feet, Richie jumping to his feet, ready to defend his friend. "You sayin' we're stupid?" the other duck with Nick asked.

Tanya could feel the bones in her arm being pushed together. At the angle this guy had her arm at he could bruise it badly, the worst being breaking it.

"Let go of her!" Richie exclaimed. He went for the guy holding Tanya's arm and punched him square in the bill, causing the other to let go of Tanya and fall over. Then he took a hold of her other arm. "C'mon, let's get outta here," Richie said, the two practically running out…

_**RVRVRVRVRVRVRV**_

"You alright Tanya?"

"I'm fine Richie. You can stop looking at my arm y'know."

When the teenager had dragged Tanya out of the restaurant to get away from the two punks bothering them, they had headed to a park nearby; it was one of the few points of the year when their part of Puckworld wasn't covered in ice (though snow still fell,) so they hadn't the need to bother with skates.

So he did as he was told and released Tanya's arm. "Sorry," he apologized. "I just got worried for a minute. I thought he was going to break your arm."

Tanya rubbed the place where the punk friend of Nick's had grabbed her arm. "I thought he was too for a second," she said. "Good thing I didn't want to test out my invention today, or those two might've broken it before it was completely finished."

"That was something I was gonna ask ya," Richie said. "Did you come up with a name for it yet?"

"Zilch," she answered. "Anything I come up with sounds…well, stupid."

"Like what?"

"Well, one idea was Gizmo-"

"Sounds like a superhero more than an invention."

Tanya sighed. "I know, that's why I can't come up with anything," she said. "I didn't think it'd be so hard to name a wrist tool with so many instruments."

Richie looked like he was in deep thought for a moment. Then his eyes widened as an idea struck him. "What about Omnitool?"

Tanya stared at him. "Huh?"

"Well, the term 'omni' means 'all', doesn't it?" Richie asked. "Your invention thus far has a lot of tools, and you're not even finished with it. So it fits."

She thought about it for a minute. "Well, it _does _have a certain ring to it," she admitted.

_**RVRVRVRVRVRVRV**_

Tanya finished fixing one of the Duckcycles, the laser knife on her Omnitool going back into the said item. She looked at her invention affectionately, running her other hand over the tool. The female missed her friend dearly, but he had been well the last time she had seen him; Richie had been in the Resistance as well, but as an inventor instead of a fighter.

_Someone _had to help create stuff for ducks to fight with, didn't they?


	8. Grin

HAI A-GAIN. Okay, here's something to remember when reading this chapter; Grin (next to Duke) is probably THE hardest character to write about. Why, you might ask? Well, mainly because we see him as the philosophical, non-weapon using duck he is today. But what was he like _before _that (other than the nasty temper and training with a master)?

P.S. Apparently (for those of you who didn't know this), according to wikipedia and every fansite I go to, Grin's real name is "Check 'Grin' Hardwing". I don't know what the point of the "Check" is, since he's never called that in the show. But whatever. I was able to use this to my advantage

Disclaimer: I don't own MD:TAS. If I did, I'd be rich.

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The rather large thirteen year old drake sat back and sighed.

Lessons were hard with his master. Of course, trying to figure out the cryptic sayings of the older one were a lesson onto themselves, not to mention whatever it was that he had in mind for the day.

But Check _had _to admit, they were working; the lessons with his master made his own life more bearable, along with the fact that his master was teaching him "the true path of hockey".

Though by some ducks standards his life wasn't bad, others would consider it horrible. Check's father drank heavily whenever he came home at the end of his work day and the younger drake's mother was usually on the end of some pretty bad beatings. Check would try to protect his mother when he could, but since his father's work schedule could get pretty erratic, the young drake couldn't always protect her. Sometimes he'd show up just as it ended, other times the young drake wouldn't go home until he knew that his father was either asleep or not coming home due to his work.

And because of all this, Check used to be angry all the time; at his father for drinking and beating his own wife, his mother for just taking it and never speaking up for herself, but mostly…at himself.

Himself, mainly because he couldn't protect his mother all the time, his father because there was nothing he could really do against him (despite the fact that Check was much stronger than him), and because he himself was confused. But then again, he was only thirteen, and had been under the tutelage of his master for not even a year.

Training with the hockey master Tai Quack Do was sometimes just tiring, mentally and physically.

But one major thing the young drake had learned was how to vent the right way. Before whenever he was mad, he'd go and bully other kids that so happened to be around; actually, that wasn't _entirely _accurate. Because of his size and strength, he could hold his own against much older teens than himself. One time, a seventeen year old hot-shot had tried to best Check at…

Actually, he couldn't even remember what it was anymore. He just remembered that the older teen had run off crying.

But since he had been starting his training, Check's temperament was much better. Kids that were once afraid of him could now call him a friend…or at least admit that they had seen great change in the teenager since he had met Tai Quack Do.

Suddenly, he felt a poke at his knee. Ripped from his thoughts, the teenager looked down to see a small duckling with blonde hair, just poking him. The kid was small, so Check guessed he was anywhere from four to six.

"Why are you poking me?" he asked the younger duckling.

Said child looked up at him. "I couldn't get your 'tension," he simply answered. "You looked like you were sad."

"I'm okay," Check told him. "But what are you doing? Aren't your mom and dad around here?"

The duckling shook his head. "But my brudder is," he answered. "I'm waitin' on him." He suddenly got a mischievous grin on his face. "We're playin' Hide-n-Seek."

Judging from that smile, the older duck thought that was not the case. But to keep the kid from wandering any further, he figured he should talk to the smaller one so his brother could catch up.

"What's your name kid?" Check asked, attempting to smile.

"Dive," the younger one said. "That's what everyone calls me anyway. What's yours?"

"Check."

The kid stared at him funny. "That's a weird name," he finally said. Then Dive smiled. "I like Grin better."

The older one looked confused. "Why that name?"

"Because you look better when you smile!" Then he paused, looking sheepish. "At least, Mommy says that."

'Grin' smiled. "It's not a bad nickname," he admitted. "Alright, I'll stick with that."

"Nosedive!"

The younger one turned his head in the direction that a voice was calling him. Then he looked back up to the older duck. "I gots to go now," he said. "Wing's prob'ly mad at me."

"Wouldn't want him to be, would you?"

The younger one shook his head. "Uh-uh."

"Then go see him."

Nosedive turned around and was about to skate off when he had a thought. He looked over his shoulder to his new friend. "Will I see you again?"

"Maybe someday," the newly dubbed 'Grin' answered, hoping that it was true.

_**RVRVRVRVRVRVRV**_

"Grinster, I'm tellin' ya, he's a bear! Why would they call him 'Bernie the Bear' if he wasn't a bear?"

Grin sighed. "He lives in a house and drives a car. Therefore, he cannot be a bear."

Nosedive looked at him from his spot on the couch, irritated. "You wouldn't say that if you were looking at his creator, would you?" he asked.

Grin just sat back in one of the recliners and smiled.

He knew someday he would meet Nosedive again, but he _never _had any idea that the two would be fighting on a team together, much less arguing over a _cartoon_.

But the odd thing was, even though Grin remembered his first meeting with the younger drake, the teenager couldn't remember giving his friend his new name so long ago.

But then again, Nosedive _had _only been around five when they met.

Somewhere in there, he knew. Grin was just waiting for the day that Dive would remember it and he could finally give the younger one credit for his nickname.


End file.
